The Real Heroes of Conventions
by Remasa
Summary: Weeks have passed since Hawkmoth renounced his villainous ways and dedicated himself to repenting for his misdeeds. Despite his efforts to clean up his act - and mop up the streets of Paris - citizens demand more. The heroes decide upon the only way to demonstrate Hawkmoth's sincerity: by getting his hands dirty and working on the staff at the next Ladybug and Chat Noir convention.
1. Chapter 1

**STOP AND READ THIS FIRST!**

Spoilers through Season 2.

This is the **ninth **work of a series. You should read the following works in order, as they are direct continuations and I don't explain previous stories:

_1) Fanboy_

_2) Cosplay Contest_

_3) Resident Expert_

_4) The Merchant of Paris_

_5) Miraculously in Concert_

_6) Autograph Session_

_7) A Fashionable Endeavor_

_8) A Host Unto His Own_

* * *

_Chapter 1_

Gabriel sat at his desk in his office, scowling at his tablet, when a knock sounded. With a flick of his finger, he darkened the screen, set the offending object to one side, and picked up his pen.

"Come in," he said, smoothing the irritation from his face as his hands began to sketch the form of a dress on the blank pages. He glanced up as the door opened and attempted to make it seem like he had been hard at work.

A dark-haired girl stepped through the doorway. "Mr. Agreste?"

"Ah, Marinette. What can I do for you?" he asked. A blond head peeked over her shoulder. "And Adrien." He set aside his pen and rose from his desk. "Come in. I take it this isn't a social visit?" he asked, once they had arranged themselves in chairs around his desk. He sat back down in his own seat and rummaged in his desk drawers for some snacks. Plagg and Tikki flew out of their respective hiding spots and settled upon his desk. Nooroo, who had popped out of the snack drawer once he heard the door shut behind the visitors, joined the other two kwamis. The violet sprite held out offerings of cookies and cheese to his two friends and the three kwamis huddled on the corner of the desk.

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Agreste," Marinette answered.

He frowned and pressed a button on his desk phone. "Nathalie, please make sure we are not disturbed for thirty minutes." He arched an eyebrow at Marinette to verify if that would be enough time and she nodded.

"Yes, Mr. Agreste," came the robotic voice of his assistant, distorted by the intercom.

"So," he said once that had been taken care of, "what can I do for you two?"

"Have you been keeping up on the news about Hawkmoth?" Marinette asked.

He sighed and reached for his tablet, swiping the screen open and flipping it around to show the others. "If you're referring to this article, yes I have."

_Hawkmoth getting off easy?_ The title of the article screamed.

_Paris' notorious supervillain, who just last month announced his intentions to cease the akuma attacks and repent for his actions, has yet to make any notable progress on his word. Though Ladybug and Chat Noir assure us that Hawkmoth is working behind the scenes, including participating in patrols and other tasks as his civilian form, the unrest continues to grow among the population. People have yet to see any tangible evidence of their claims. Is it time to have the heroes turn over Hawkmoth to the proper authorities?_

Gabriel tossed aside the tablet once again with a scowl as he finished reading the article aloud. "Idiotic fools," he muttered, "just because they cannot see Hawkmoth doesn't mean I am not keeping my word."

A brief glance was shared between the kids. "Uhm, actually, that's what we wanted to talk about," Marinette said. "We were thinking it's probably a good idea to have Hawkmoth appear in public and start working on his promise to repent."

Why did he have a feeling he wasn't going to like this very much? "I take it you already have something in mind?" he said.

They nodded. "There's another convention going on next month at the new center that was just built," Marinette said.

His son quirked a grin at him. "It seems the city officials are eager to upstage your own convention last month," he said, speaking for the first time since he entered. "I'm guessing they were a little bit put out that we decided to announce the end of Hawkmoth at a mere civilian's convention, and not one hosted by them."

Gabriel refrained from rolling his eyes – but only just barely. He had to maintain _some_ of his dignified image in front of these kids. "Power-hungry politicians, always looking to upstage each other," he scoffed, "ignoring that the _real_ importance was Hawkmoth ceasing his attacks."

The distasteful grimace upon Marinette's face showed that she agreed with him. "Well, regardless, this would be the perfect occasion to demonstrate our sincerity."

"What did you have planned?" he asked, pushing down the sudden dread that arose.

The grin on his son's face widened into a full-blown smile. "We were thinking you could work on the staff."

Okay, that wasn't so bad.

"Janitorial staff," Adrien added.

Years of practicing his poker face saved him in this very instant. He was certain the kids expected some negative reaction. Even the kwamis stopped their murmuring to watch his response.

He nodded with a thoughtful expression. "That makes sense," he said, adopting an air of casual nonchalance. "It's about time I started to _clean up_ the city."

He wasn't entirely certain if the gobsmacked expressions upon their faces were a result of his ready acceptance of his appointed task or the ensuing pun. He hid his own smile.

Marinette composed herself first. "Right. Well, I'm glad we're on the same page, then," she said. She rose from the chair and Adrien followed her lead. "The conference hall should give us more info later. We'll keep you updated."

"Please do," he said, knowing Nathalie would be a better person to inform so she could juggle everything. He appreciated being kept in the loop, however.

As the two teenagers made their way out, Marinette threw one last glance at him over her shoulder. "Oh, don't forget you have patrol with me tonight," she called.

"Of course," he replied, picking up his pen to continue working. The moment the door closed, he tossed his pen back down on the desk and threw his head back with a groan. "I _completely_ forgot about patrol," he mumbled aloud. Nooroo flew into his field of vision.

"You're not upset about having to be a janitor at the conference?" the floating sprite asked.

Gabriel shook his head. "No. It's nothing I haven't done before," he said. At Nooroo's floored expression, he chuckled. "Did you think I was born a successful fashion designer?" he asked. "There's not a job I _haven't_ worked while struggling to make a name for myself."

His kwami regarded him with a curious look upon his face for a long moment. "Does Adrien know this?" he asked at last.

With a shake of his head, Gabriel reached for his pen once more. "He's never asked and it's never come up in casual conversation. I'm certain he wouldn't care now."

There was a soft sigh as Nooroo settled onto the corner of the desk. "I think Adrien would like to know more about his father."

"I'll think on it," he replied, if only to stave off an impending debate.

With one last long look at Gabriel, the kwami closed his eyes, leaving the designer to work in peace.

* * *

**_Several weeks prior..._**

"We'll do one more lap around the city before calling it a night," Ladybug said, her eyebrow raising up as if expecting him to challenge her.

Hawkmoth nodded, his face as impassive as usual. His patrols were mostly with Ladybug, after one with Chat Noir left them both arguing on top of the Eiffel Tower instead of keeping an eye out on the streets below until Ladybug swooped in and separated them. Since then, she had been the one to accompany him on his assigned nights to patrol.

Though he had in essence surrendered, the heroes mistrusted him. Ladybug kept him at arm's length at all times, and ensured he remained in her line of sight. When Marinette came over to his house, he remained shut in his office unless it was absolutely necessary for her to speak to him (which wasn't often).

So, when a building out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he froze, naturally she noticed.

"What is it?" she asked, following his viewpoint.

He blinked and shook himself out of his stupor. "It's nothing," he said, slamming his poker face into place. With eyes closed to bury the pain – the memory – he turned to jump off and begin his patrol when a gentle pressure in the crook of his arm gave him pause. He glanced over and met her eyes, crinkled in concern despite their history.

"Tell me?" she implored, her tone sympathetic yet still leaving him the option to shut her out.

He relented with a sigh and she dropped her hand. "Do you see that garden over there?"

Her eyes followed his outstretched finger. "The one all lit up?"

A nod. "It's actually a small labyrinth, or at least the back half is. The part there that's all lit up with white lights. You can't see it because it just looks like a bunch of hedges from here." He lapsed back into silence for a moment, collecting his thoughts. Ladybug remained quiet, waiting for him to continue. "I brought Emilie here once." His eyes closed as his mind drifted back to that evening. "We were walking along the labyrinth path when the lights went out. A blown fuse. I wanted to head back to the entrance, but she grabbed my hand and urged us forward. An adventure, she declared. She always loved adventure. Soon enough we reached the other side, back against that wall." He opened his eyes and pointed to a building with a glass dome butted against the edge of the garden.

"That was when we heard it," he continued. "Music. Coming from the building. All of these people dressed up in their finest clothes listening to the performance."

He swallowed, his throat growing thick with emotion. Ladybug continued to stare at the building, transfixed. Either from the lights or the story, he couldn't tell. "I told Emilie one day that I would get us inside that hall. One day we would sit in and listen to the music the proper way.

"She said she didn't care. That she was happy sitting out here in my arms as we leaned against the wall and watched through the glass dome. After a few songs, she pulled me up and asked to dance. It was her favorite song. I'll never forget the expression of wonder and awe upon her face as the notes drifted up to us. I couldn't dance, but she just took my hands and led me through the steps. This will be our secret place, she said." His voice cracked at the next words. "That was the exact moment I knew I wanted to spend every minute of the rest of my life with her."

The silence lingered between them. When it became apparent he wasn't going to say anything else, Ladybug turned to him.

"Does Adrien know?" she asked, soft and quiet to not break the stillness of the night.

He scoffed. "Of course not. He has no interest in this. Especially now." As he turned to her, he caught her lips purse in disagreement. "Do you know where your parents got engaged?"

The disapproval melted away as his words sank in. "This is where you proposed?" she clarified.

"I thought it to be the most fitting place," he replied. "That date meant so much to both of us." There was a few seconds of stillness. "I know my son is more prone to dramatic theatrics. He probably thinks I proposed on top of the Eiffel Tower with some sensational fanfare." He shot a wry smile to her. "The truth is much more boring. I was poor. But I knew how symbolism worked. And this place? It's _our_ special place." He stared at the dimly glowing hedge once more before turning to the edge of the roof. "Best we get moving."

He stepped forward, but Ladybug's hand upon his elbow halted him once more. He turned to face her.

"I think the healer is ready to try siphoning the illness from Duusu," she said. "He should have the final preparations in place within the next week."

His heart froze at that, the words washing over him.

"It's not 100% certain he can be ready by then," Ladybug continued, "but it's pretty likely. We were going to tell you once we knew for sure, but I think you could use a bit of good news right now."

His other hand reached over and squeezed hers. "Thank you," he said, his voice breaking as the lump in his throat threatened to cut off all speech.

"I think we've done enough patrol for tonight," she said. "Go home and get some sleep."

He nodded and jumped off the ledge, allowing the darkness to swallow him as he vanished from sight.

The next day, a soft knock on his office door cut through is concentration. "Come in," he called out and looked up as his son stepped in. "Adrien? Is something the matter?"

The teen twirled his ring, not quite meeting Gabriel's eyes. "Marinette said I should talk to you." He paused. "About Mom."

Gabriel's hand hovered over his papers. He stared at his son for a long moment before sighing. "Patrol with me tonight?" he asked, and Adrien's eyes shot over to him in surprise.

After a long minute, Adrien nodded. "Okay," he agreed. "I'll let Marinette know." He slipped away without another word, leaving Gabriel to wonder if despite the early buds of promising hope, they would ever fully reconcile.

* * *

**_Author's Note: _**

_A sincere and special thank you to PerditaAlottachocolate for brainstorming, editing, and being a constant and welcome continued beacon of support throughout this entire writing process for me._

_An additional thank you to Tempomental for additional editing and brainstorming help._

_Do check out both of their works! They both write some amazing things. :)_

_I know it's been a while since I posted anything and I do apologize for that. There are several reasons for it. One, my enthusiasm toward this fandom is fading. I hate what they're doing to Gabriel's character and I disagree with a lot of character-driven and plot-driven choices in canon. That, in turn, has waned my desire to want to write for this fandom, especially since I exclusively write Good-Guy-Gabriel. So, this story is actually not yet finished (a rarity for me) but I really needed to get this first chapter out today for personal reasons. It will be a bit feels-oriented the first two chapters, then flip back to the fun loving crack with a side of plot for the remainder._

_Another reason is that some of my work was recently plagiarized, and it took quite a toll on me. It has since been resolved, though not without immense headaches and souring my opinions of the fandom and AO3 in particular. _

_Which brings me to my next somewhat PSA: everyone **please** backup your works on archive. o r g. This is an archival site that documents what a website looked like at the time of submission. Submit your own work and any stolen work you may find as proof of authenticity (and theft) before it can be edited (as mine was done). Artists, please watermark all images. Don't rely upon others to inform you if things are being stolen or plagiarized. I was the only one who caught that my work was stolen._


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

Later that night, father and son wove through the streets of Paris before Hawkmoth stopped them upon the same rooftop he stood the previous night with Ladybug. He sat down upon the ledge, legs dangling into the air. Chat Noir followed his lead, albeit cautiously, keeping an arm's length between them. Hawkmoth tried to ignore the stab in his heart at that. They sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the crisp and cool air as they took a small break from patrol.

At last, Hawkmoth sighed. "This is where I proposed to your mother," he began, catching his son off-guard.

"What?" Chat turned to him.

Hawkmoth continued to stare straight ahead. "It was right over there," he continued, motioning with his hand, "on that rooftop."

Chat Noir followed his gaze, then turned back to him. "Why are you telling me this?"

The former villain shrugged. "Ladybug thought you might want to know. I told her you weren't interested."

"That's not..." Chat began. "I _am_ interested! But every time I tried to ask you about Mom, you shut me down and turned me away. So I stopped asking. I was tired of wasting my time on a question I already knew the answer to."

The silence stretched between them; the slightest misstep threatening to shatter the crystalline tension that would widen the chasm between them further.

At last, Hawkmoth released a sigh. "You're right," he admitted.

Chat deflated at that, seemingly shocked by his father's confession. The fire roaring in his eyes burned away to dim embers. "Can you tell me more about her?"

"She loved adventure," Hawkmoth said after a few seconds of reflection, his eyes once again staring unseeing ahead of him – picturing the moment as it happened. "She wasn't afraid of anything. She would dive into the darkest cave without a second thought, dragging me with her." A pause, then a soft, "she would have made a wonderful hero."

The silence returned, stretching and lingering in the air like the anticipation of an approaching thunderstorm.

"You – " Chat began, then cut off with a gulp as his voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again, his words deliberate and steady as he spoke. "You really love her, don't you?"

"Of course." No hesitation.

"But it's been so long," Chat said.

He allowed a tiny smile to form upon his lips. "And every moment that passes, it grows."

Chat turned away to stare off at something ahead of them. Hawkmoth wondered what he was thinking about, but didn't want to break his son's musings. At last, he sighed and twisted back to Hawkmoth. "Mast- uh, the guardian says he's ready to take a look at Duusu and start healing her."

"Yes, Ladybug informed me yesterday."

"Uh, he wants to come over tomorrow."

His jaw dropped open and he whipped his head around to gape at Chat Noir. After a few seconds, he found his voice. "I see. I'll vacate the house for that time."

"Why?" His son's expression turned to confusion.

Hawkmoth sighed. "I imagine your healer wouldn't want me to know his identity, correct?"

Chat Noir regarded him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. The action unnerved him. Finally, his son said, "Actually, he's been looking forward to officially meeting you for a while now. But I can understand if you don't want to be there. I can let him and Marinette know."

"No, I..." Hawkmoth drifted off, then swallowed and gathered his thoughts. "I would be honored to meet the healer," he said.

"Great!" Chat Noir leaned back and rested on his arms. "Now that that's settled, do you think you could tell me some more stories about Mom?"

Hawkmoth mimicked Chat Noir's languid pose, angling his face toward the moon. "That's a subject I could talk about for hours," he said, obliging his son.

And when Ladybug landed beside them a couple of hours later to make sure everything was okay (since Chat Noir missed their check-in call), she discovered her partner listening with rapt fascination as Hawkmoth regaled him with tales of happier past times. She smiled and turned to jump away when Hawkmoth spotted her.

"Join us, Ladybug," he called out.

Chat Noir turned to follow his father's line of sight and beamed his own smile at the heroine.

"I don't want to intrude," she said.

"You're not," Chat insisted.

She looked between the two for a few seconds before relenting and settling beside Chat. "What are you two discussing?"

"Father's failed attempts to woo Mom," Chat Noir answered before Hawkmoth could even open his mouth.

He squawked, feeling his face heat up (and suddenly _very_ grateful his mask covered 98% of his head). "Failed?" he spluttered. "I did not _fail_ at winning your mother's heart," he insisted.

His son flashed a smarmy smile at him. "It sounded pretty touch-and-go there for a while."

"Yes," Hawkmoth agreed, staring back out into the expanse of the city. "I've often wondered how lucky I was to marry such an amazing woman." He shook his head to disperse the melancholic thoughts. "Did I ever tell you about the time I was so nervous around Emilie that I tripped and landed face-first in a punch bowl?" He chuckled at their identical stupefied expressions. "It was our second date. To this day, I'm stunned we had a third."

And as he continued to talk about happier times with Emilie, Chat slowly began to lose his standoffish demeanor around him. Even Ladybug seemed pleased at the turn of events. Maybe he should listen to her more often. She certainly has steered him down the right path more than once.

* * *

The next morning, Nathalie entered his office. "Sir," she said, "Adrien's substitute Chinese tutor is here. He wishes to speak with you."

"Does Adrien have any Chinese lessons today?" he inquired. He glanced at the clock as he asked this, hoping to get the issue resolved quickly. The healer was due to arrive any minute now.

"No," she replied. "He insists he has an appointment to meet with you." She tapped on her tablet. "But I can find no record of it in the scheduler."

"There must be some mistake," Gabriel said. "Schedule him an appointment, but not for today. I have a very important meeting shortly that cannot be rescheduled."

"It's understandable you wouldn't recognize me," came a voice from behind Nathalie, "as we have yet to engage in a formal introduction."

Nathalie stepped to one side in surprise, clearly not expecting the man to have followed her. "Sir," she began, and Gabriel wasn't certain if she was addressing him or the newcomer.

"Gabriel Agreste," the tiny man continued, and Gabriel schooled himself not to wince at the man's rather _garish_ fashion choices. "I have heard a lot about you."

"From whom?" came his automatic response, preparing to level his fiercest intimidating glare at the man.

The man smiled. "Why, from Adrien and Marinette, of course."

His throat closed up. This... this was... Realization washed over him. He stood, trying to keep the shock off his face. "Nathalie, this is my current appointment. Would you like me to get Adrien? I don't believe Marinette has arrived yet but she's planning on coming over for this meeting."

"Actually, I wish to speak with you privately, before Adrien and Marinette arrive," the healer said.

"Okay," he said, even as dread rose up inside him. "Nathalie, can you inform Adrien and Marinette when she arrives that I'll summon them when we're ready?"

"Certainly, Mr. Agreste," she said, before turning and departing the room, and leaving Gabriel alone with the tiny (yet somehow impossibly imposing) man.

"Did you wish to speak here or in my atelier?" Gabriel asked.

"Your atelier," came the simple reply.

Without any further discussion, Gabriel led the way downstairs, his unease growing with each quiet footstep behind him. Once inside, with the door secured behind them (the healer's suggestion), Gabriel spared a quick glance at the golden portrait for strength before turning his attention to the short man in front of him.

"Gabriel Agreste," the man said. "Hawkmoth," he added, and Gabriel gulped. But there was no anger or hatred in his tone. He was merely stating a fact.

Still, it forced a cough from the designer's throat. "Actually, I just prefer Mr. Agreste."

"Gabriel, then," the healer said, and the former villain caught a hint of a challenge in the elderly man's eyes as he said that, though the pleasant smile never wavered.

He wasn't going to press the issue. "Or Gabriel, if you're more comfortable with that," he mumbled, trying his hardest to keep the sarcasm from his voice.

The eyes twinkled in amusement, indicating he wasn't as successful in that regard as he believed. "I am Master Fu, guardian of the Miraculouses."

"Guardian?" Gabriel blinked at him in shock. "I thought you were a healer."

Master Fu nodded. "I began my training as a healer's apprentice, but when the Order fell, I was the only survivor. The mantle of guardian fell upon my shoulders as well."

There was so much in that statement Gabriel wanted to dissect, but he settled for a brusque, "I see."

"May I speak with Nooroo?"

The violet head popped out of Gabriel's jacket. He glanced up at Gabriel, who nodded and waved his hand. The kwami drifted over to the guardian, where they began to converse in low voices. After a couple of minutes of the two of them in intense discussions, a third green kwami popped out and joined in. Sensing this might take a lot longer than he expected, Gabriel grabbed his designing tablet and settled down in one of the sunken couches and began to sketch. He looked up at the golden portrait of his wife for inspiration, and soon he had forgotten all about the guardian, Nooroo, and the mysterious green kwami as he lost himself in his work, allowing the memories of his wife and the hope of more memories to come guide his hand through the familiar strokes.

He sketched her figure, relying more on muscle memory than actual conscious thought to flesh out her lithe form and long flowing hair. A couple of swipes, and the beginnings of a dress appeared on the page. He continued in this fashion for a while before he realized the room had gone quiet. He glanced up to discover the guardian and both kwamis watching him.

"Ah," Gabriel said, setting the tablet aside. "My apologies, I didn't notice you approach."

"That's a lovely design," Master Fu said. "You've certainly earned every bit of your reputation."

"Thank you," Gabriel replied, wondering if that last remark was intended to reflect only his fashion business. His eyes darted to Nooroo, who floated back to perch upon his shoulder.

"Now that that's out of the way," Master Fu said, "may I examine Duusu's Miraculous now?"

"Yes, of course," Gabriel said, rising to his feet. He wondered what conversation had transpired between the three of them, but Master Fu didn't appear to be willing to divulge any details, and Gabriel doubted he would be able to press him to reveal it if he didn't want to. Once at the safe, Gabriel didn't bother to hide the combination from view. Master Fu's green kwami could break in should the tiny man desire to purloin the contents within.

Master Fu's guarded expression dropped the moment Gabriel turned around with the Miraculous in his hands. Was he still wary of Gabriel? Did he fear that Gabriel would attempt something even now? He surrendered the Miraculous to Master Fu and stepped back a little to give him space.

The elderly guardian flipped the brooch over in his hands, holding it up to the light, pressing it close to his eyes, turning it over to examine every facet of the magical gem. His kwami fluttered in, too, studying it with as much concentration as Master Fu.

"What do you think, Wayzz?"

"Hmm," the green kwami mused, resting one tiny paw under his chin. "I can certainly feel the energy leaking out even in its dormant state."

"Leaking?" Gabriel repeated. His eyes widened in alarm and he sat up straighter on the couch. "Is it dangerous to us here?"

"No," Wayzz replied, and Gabriel relaxed slightly. "It's a minuscule leak – a mere pinprick of energy. But the fact that it even exists in the first place stands as a testament to how damaged the Miraculous is."

Gabriel was almost too afraid to ask the next question, but he steeled himself and asked anyway. "Can it be fixed?"

"Hmm," the kwami hummed and time stopped for Gabriel as Wayzz pondered the question. "Yes, I believe so," he said at last. Gabriel released the air in his lungs with a _whoosh_. "It will take time, of course. But I believe Duusu can be restored to her healthy state once again."

"And as for your wife," Master Fu added. "I would have to examine her as well to be certain."

"Yes, of course," he said as he rose from his seat.

"Now might be a good time to summon Adrien and Marinette," Master Fu suggested.

He froze midway to the golden portrait. "Now?" he asked, turning back around to face the guardian.

"Now," Master Fu repeated, never once dropping his mild tone nor his placid expression, yet Gabriel knew this was non-debatable.

With silent acquiescence, he averted his path and aimed for the door.

"That won't be necessary," Master Fu interrupted. "Nooroo and Wayzz can go get them." He nodded at the two kwamis, who darted away. Nooroo cast one last look over his shoulder and Gabriel gave him a nod. Then, they vanished through the door, leaving Gabriel alone with the guardian.

"You must have many questions for me, Gabriel Agreste," the old man began.

"Just one, actually," Gabriel interrupted. "The only question I've ever cared to have answered: can you bring her back to me?"

Master Fu's eyes widened in surprise. His lips curved upward into a pleased smile. "All the questions in the entire world, and you're still focused upon her?"

"She is my everything," he answered. "She has always been my goal. That has never changed."

"Hmm," Master Fu hummed. "Perhaps Nooroo was right. Perhaps my opinions of you are wrong. Perhaps you can – and have – changed."

Before Gabriel could respond to that, the door opened (why even bother with the lock in the first place if the kwamis rendered it ineffective?) and in walked Adrien and Marinette, trailed by a parade of kwamis.

"Ah, good afternoon," Master Fu greeted, turning to them both with a warm smile. "Thank you for joining us."

"Wayzz said something about seeing Mom?" Adrien asked, swiveling his gaze between Master Fu and Gabriel.

"I need to assess her condition. To see what it would take to heal her," the guardian replied.

Gabriel picked up on the subtle nuance of the words – guarding against the truth. The unspoken _if_ the elderly man omitted in his explanation to Adrien. His respect for the guardian grew in that moment.

"And we felt it best if you were there as well," Master Fu finished.

"Oh." Adrien peeked at him, his own face guarded and reserved. Gabriel didn't know what else to do, so he just nodded and attempted a reassuring smile. With his current ball-of-nerves state, it most likely came out as a grimace instead. Adrien's face didn't lose the wary expression as his attention shifted back to Master Fu. "So where is she?"

The tiny man turned to him. "Ah," Gabriel said, "she's in a... stasis chamber, for lack of a better term. Below the house." He headed to the portrait. "You'll have to descend one by one, as I didn't design this to hold multiple people."

"You first," Adrien said.

He nodded. "Of course." His hands rested upon the geometric designs embedded within the painted dress, his fingers hovering over the button combo. With a glance over his shoulder, he hesitated as he sized up the three smaller people. "Uh, can any of you reach this?"

They exchanged looks between them. With a sigh, Marinette stepped forward. "I'll go down first." As she stood on the position he indicated, she fixed him with a long hard stare. He had no words ready to reassure her – nothing he would say would alleviate her mistrust of him. So, he remained quiet as he depressed the buttons. A click, a whir, and she sank from view. A moment later, the platform returned, empty.

"Next," he announced. Adrien stepped forward. Another silent journey. When the four of them had descended into the subterranean room, Gabriel assumed the lead and guided them in a silent procession. The lights flickered on one by one as he passed by, activated by the movement below. When at last he arrived in front of the crystalline cocoon – so much like a coffin – he stepped right up to the glass.

All around her rested vases of bright fresh flowers. Their presence hiding both the thick cables keeping Emilie alive and also providing a splash of color in an otherwise dreary and drab world. And she was so pale. So, so pale.

He rested one hand lightly atop the glass, his fingertips barely brushing against the surface. A choked sob threatened to emerge from his throat, because _how could someone that colorless still be alive_? He swallowed hard, smothering the emotion back into his chest. His shoulders hunched over to hide his moment of weakness from Adrien, and the mere thought of his son made his eyes flicker over to him. An instinctive, involuntary action that couldn't be helped.

He wished he never looked.

His son stood slightly behind him, the youthful features contorted in anguish as he gazed upon his mother for the first time in years. Marinette wrapped her arms around him for support, and Adrien melted against her as he soaked in her strength.

He averted his gaze. Adrien had Marinette.

And Gabriel was all alone.

He really should have figured. The two teenagers handled their grief much better than he could. They didn't need him for support. They had each other. No one ever _needed_ him.

Maybe he was always meant to be alone.

* * *

_**Author's Note:** Special thank you to **PerditaAlottachocolate** for beta-reading this, and for **Tempomental** for one final lookover._


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

So consumed by his own grief, Gabriel jumped when a hand touched his elbow. His head whipped over to discover Adrien standing beside him, his own eyes bright with unshed tears. Marinette clutched his son's other hand.

Gabriel didn't know what to say, and it appeared that neither did Adrien, because the hand fell from his elbow to snake around his waist. Adrien tugged him closer as Marinette dropped his hand so he could wrap both arms around his father in a fierce hug. He shifted his stance to twist to Adrien and pulled him tight against him. He felt Adrien begin to tremble.

"I'm so sorry, Adrien," Gabriel murmured into his boy's hair. "I made a horrible mistake, and instead of fixing it I only made it worse. So much worse."

"Well, Wayzz?"

The voice beside Gabriel startled him out of Adrien's grasp. He had forgotten all about the guardian. The man had stepped up to the enclosure and peered at the body within, his nose so close to the glass it nearly touched it. Inside, fluttering around, was the green kwami, who darted over and phased through the glass once Master Fu spoke.

"Yes," he announced. "I think it's quite possible. It will take time, of course, but I'm certain it can be done."

Gabriel's grip upon Adrien ended up being the only thing keeping him on his feet as a wave of relief and joy swept through him.

* * *

_**Present day**_

Today was the day. The first day Hawkmoth appeared in public and began to work out his debt. There had been two healing sessions with Master Fu, and Emilie already looked more vibrant. Or perhaps it was just him. It was hard to tell if there was really any change or if his bias colored his perception of Emilie's body. Wayzz assured him that Master Fu was diverting the energy properly, and though he had yet to meet Duusu (the little being popped out, siphoned, and returned for a long nap so quickly that Master Fu deemed himself the only one to be present when she appeared), Wayzz also assured him her condition was improving as well.

Gabriel had taken the opportunity to visit Emilie before they were scheduled to leave. He grabbed his tablet and headed below, intent to use the quiet chamber and his wife's blossoming health to spur his inspiration as he finalized more details on the dress he had started to design when Master Fu first arrived. It would be his present to Emilie when she awoke – the first dress he hoped she would wear on the very first date he would take her on after she got better. Maybe to that garden? He dotted the hemline with tiny flowers. Maybe to one of the vineyards on the outskirts of the city? His hand erased the flowers and vines began to spiral up the sides of the dress, peppered by the occasional grape leaf and swirl.

The whirring noise cut through his concentration. He looked up from his tablet as the platform descended in the distance, Adrien's blond mop appearing into view. With a small smile, he flicked off the tablet and set it aside, pushing himself off the ground to greet Adrien.

"I thought I might find you down here," his son said once he got within earshot. He glanced over to the artificial chrysalis. "How is she?"

"Better," Gabriel answered. "Your guardian is a remarkable man." He cast a look at his wife's still form, his features softening as he did so.

"Do you come down here a lot?" Adrien asked.

"Yes." Gabriel stopped to scoop up the tablet, suppressing a wince as his back protested. He was getting too old to be sitting in such uncomfortable positions for so long. Maybe he should bring a chair down the next time he visited. He placed his hand upon the glass just above Emilie's cheek for a second or two, and the barest hint of a smile curved his lips before he removed his hand and turned to the exit.

"Oh."

A sort of awkward silence fell over them as Gabriel walked back to the lift before a sudden through struck him.

"How did you reach the buttons?" he asked.

Adrien shot him a smug smile worthy of his superhero alter-self. "I improvised," he said with a wink. "You'll see."

Gabriel didn't know what else to say until they reached the platform and he spotted one of the dining room chairs. "You stood upon a chair?"

"Well, I couldn't find the step stool and the dining room was closer." Adrien plopped down on the chair with a cheeky grin and waved as he vanished from sight. The platform returned a moment later still with the chair upon it.

"I just jumped off once it started to descend," Adrien explained when Gabriel asked, and the designer made a mental note to not ask questions he _really_ didn't want the answer to.

"Are you all ready to go?" he asked instead.

Adrien nodded. "Yep. Marinette is going to meet us there. Then we can split off and transform." His face scrunched in concern. "Are you nervous?"

"No," he lied. No sense in worrying the boy.

"Hmm," Adrien mused, studying Gabriel carefully but refraining from commenting further. Maybe he wasn't as good at hiding things from his son as he used to be. Or maybe Adrien was feeling the same way.

"Are you?" he asked as they walked out of the door.

Adrien scoffed. "Who, me? Nervous? No way! What do I have to be nervous about?"

Gabriel rested a hand upon his son's shoulders. "Yeah," he admitted, "me, too."

One hand reached up and squeezed his, and they walked the rest of the way to the car in silence.

* * *

Their bodyguard dropped them off at the front of the convention center, and Gabriel dismissed him for the remainder of the day, telling him he would call when they needed a ride back home. With a grunt of acknowledgment, the man drove away. As they headed toward the building, he idly wondered why he even bothered to pretend around his bodyguard anymore. Surely by now the man must have figured out what went on under the Agreste roof, even without the farcical attempt to fabricate excuses for why neither Gabriel nor Adrien would need a bodyguard during today's excursion.

A loud argument off to one side caught his attention, and he slowed his steps as he approached.

"You have to listen to me!" An older man in glasses pleaded to policeman Roger Raincomprix. He waved his hands around to emphasize his point. "This is dangerous! People could get hurt! I must talk to the mayor."

Roger held up one hand, unaffected by the man's impassioned plea. "Calm down, sir. You can't see the mayor. He's a very busy man."

Gabriel suppressed a frown as they walked by. He should have expected this. Of course people would be frightened at the thought of Hawkmoth appearing today. Of course there would be people protesting outside of the center. He was a bit surprised to discover only _one_ protester so far, but the day had just begun and the convention hadn't yet officially started. He suspected there would be plenty more amassing once Hawkmoth formally appeared. Adrien frowned at the lone protester before shooting a worried look at his father.

"It's okay, Adrien," Gabriel reassured him as they continued onward. "It's nothing I didn't expect." He placed one arm around Adrien's shoulders. "I don't care what people think of me," he said. "I've known what my actions would entail. I have only ever cared about bringing your mother back to us. Everything else was immaterial. Or at least it was to me, up to a point."

As they entered the building, the protester's continuous vocal demands to speak to the mayor faded away. A stand of pamphlets caught his attention and he stepped over and snagged one, unfolding it and scanning through the different events. Not that he could attend any. Still, he was curious as to what this convention would offer.

"Anything interesting?" Adrien asked.

He sighed. "Not particularly. Mostly the usual offerings." He handed the program to Adrien with a glimmer of a mischievous smile. "Do you think I could make a guest appearance at one of the panels?"

The delighted burst of laughter from his son widened the smile upon his own face. "Careful," Adrien cautioned, "if Hawkmoth establishes himself as an expert, then people might ask him to show up and have a dual-off of knowledge with Gabriel Agreste."

"Oh, a challenge, then," Gabriel teased back. "I'm sure I could figure out how to be in two places at once."

"If you need help with that, I'm pretty pro at diverting that kind of suspicion."

Gabriel chuckled. "I'll certainly keep that in mind." His good humor faded as he looked up and spotted André Bourgeois approaching them. As the portly man neared with a practiced saccharine smile upon his face, Gabriel fought to keep the groan of disdain from surfacing, instead smoothing his own features into bland approval, much like how he looked when dealing with Audrey.

"Gabriel, so good to see you again," André exclaimed. "And Adrien, how are you two doing today?"

"Mayor," he replied, inclining his head into a stiff nod.

"Hello, Mayor Bourgeois," Adrien replied, polite and courteous. If Gabriel didn't know any better, he might believe his son exuded sincere warmth in his greeting. "We are looking forward to seeing what this convention has to offer. Father is eager to meet the heroes again."

Gabriel wondered if he could jab his elbow into his son in retaliation without anyone noticing.

"Ah, yes, I know all about how much of a fan you are, Gabriel," André said.

"Immensely so," came his smooth reply.

"This is a pretty impressive building, Mayor Bourgeois," Adrien complimented as he looked around at the bright interior, with the expansive glass allowing plenty of natural sunlight to shine through. Gabriel was glad to see Adrien taking the initiative in the conversation, saving him the trouble of having to invent false platitudes on his own.

The mayor's face split in two with a wide smile. "Thank you, Adrien. We weren't certain this would be completed in time, but the construction crew pulled out some miracle and turned a six month delay into a two months ahead of schedule! It's a bit fitting that Hawkmoth's first public display of repentance coincides with the opening of this building. How did you find that out, anyway? No one but the staff is aware Hawkmoth will be here. We don't want to stop people from coming, after all.."

"Ladybug stopped by my house to discuss an unrelated matter and let it slip," Gabriel replied, the half-lie sliding easily from his lips. He had forgotten about that minor tidbit. The slump of Adrien's shoulders told Gabriel that his son had also forgotten.

"Ah, that explains it then. Probably wanted to break the news to you gently, I'm sure. Anyway, this is all a bit symbolic, eh? New beginnings for both?"

"Of course," Adrien replied, and Gabriel wondered how much shade he could throw at the city's obvious desire to upstage his previous hosted convention before André caught onto what he was doing.

"Not that we were _trying_ to outdo you, Gabriel," André continued, blissfully unaware of Gabriel's growing ire, "but you do understand how bad it looks for us that Hawkmoth surrendered at _your_ convention and not to any of the officials of Paris."

_Like you,_ was on the tip of his tongue, but he held back and clenched his fists instead. "I would hope that the fact that Hawkmoth has surrendered at all would be more important to the citizens of Paris than where and to whom he decided to announce his ceasing of attacks," he replied instead, only injecting a little bit of bite to his words. Adrien shifted beside him, probably in amusement.

Thankfully, he was saved from further annoyances by the arrival of Ladybug. Or rather, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. His eyes caught her standing against a wall, clearly waiting for them to conclude their business with the mayor. She wiggled her fingers in greeting at Adrien, and he returned the subtle gesture with a dopey grin upon his face. Ah, so maybe his earlier twitching was because he spotted his girlfriend.

"I shall let you get back to organizing the event," Gabriel said, knowing full well that André wouldn't actually have done any of the grunt work to get this convention up and running, but would eagerly take credit for its success regardless. "Enjoy your day, Mayor."

He rested a hand upon Adrien's shoulders and guided him away, ignoring whatever response André said as they retreated.

"Good morning, Miss Marinette," Gabriel greeted, keeping his tone cool and polite and definitely _not_ full of relief at having an excuse to leave André behind.

"Good morning, Mr. Agreste," she returned, just as polite. "Are you ready for today?"

Her sincerity surprised him, for he was certain if Adrien had asked it, there would be less genuine concern and more teasing in the words.

"Of course," he replied.

Her gaze flickered to Adrien for a brief moment before settling back on him. "Okay, then," she said, and Gabriel was grateful she didn't press the issue, "I scouted out a nice place for us to gather. We should probably transform and check in with Mayor Bourgeois."

The scowl didn't leave Gabriel's face at the mention of having to encounter the irksome politician _again_, but thankfully neither Marinette nor Adrien noticed as she led the way to their meeting spot. Convention lair? Miraculous meetup? Hidden headquarters? His mind rattled off several alternative names to their special spot as Adrien sidled up beside Marinette, and indecipherable whispers between the two drifted up to him as he trailed behind. She led them to a small room stuffed with cardboard boxes and leftover boards, shelving units, and various types of tools.

He silently appraised the location as she closed the door behind her, already forming a mental map. The room was tucked away from the main hallway, and Gabriel didn't spot any irritating cameras nearby. He could send Nooroo around for a sweep, but he didn't want to insult Marinette's planning. How lucky they were that she managed to stumble upon the one tucked away room covered in leftover construction equipment should they need additional cover.

As soon as the door closed, Tikki popped out of Marinette's purse. "We'll be safe here," she chirped, twirling around Marinette's head.

Suspecting the two teenagers might feel awkward transforming in front of him, he stepped behind a particularly large stack of boxes and cracked open his jacket.

"Are you ready?" Nooroo asked, and Gabriel was getting _real_ tired of that question.

"Absolutely. Let's get this over with." He uttered the transformation phrase and waited a moment for Marinette and Adrien to transform. After he was certain enough time had passed, he stepped out from behind the boxes, only to find the teenagers standing face to face with each other, untransformed.

"This will be our first transformation together," Adrien was saying, brushing a hand over her cheek. Marinette blushed a deep red, averting her eyes even as a tiny smile curved her lips upward.

_Oh for the love of..._

He cleared his throat loudly and the two teenagers jumped apart as if electrocuted, their faces flaming. Though he refrained from saying anything, the unamused look he leveled at them got his point across just fine. With two hastily muttered phrases and two flashes of light, the heroes shuffled over to him, their cheeks still sporting the evidence of their embarrassment.

And as they processed through the hallways, Gabriel steeled himself for the day ahead, wondering what possible horrors might await him. He thought of Emilie and the faint color gradually returning to her delicate cheeks, and that memory of hope lingered with him as he faced the beginning of his punishment. Maybe one day in the near future, he could transform with Emilie once again, too.

* * *

_**Author's Note:** Thank you to **PerditaAlottachocolate** for beta reading and her always helpful suggestions for improvement! Check out her exciting works!_

_Also, I'm on tumblr now! Look me up at **goblin-alchemist** and send me lots of Good-Guy-Gabe stuff!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

"Ah, hello Ladybug and Chat Noir," André said as the three transformed Miraculous holders approached. "And Hawkmoth," he added, considerably less subdued to see the purple-clad former villain looming over the two heroes.

"Good morning, Mayor," Ladybug greeted with a warm smile. Chat Noir echoed the sentiment. Hawkmoth remained silent.

Even without his enhanced powers of empathy, he could tell André was anxious to get out of Hawkmoth's presence. The mayor's eyes darted all around the room, never once settling upon him. His fingers rubbed against the edge of his mayoral sash every once in a while, then André would catch himself and stop, only for the fingers to resume brushing along the edge after a few seconds. Hawkmoth wished the same apprehension carried over to his civilian form. Scaring André away from attempting to schmooze up Gabriel would definitely improve his quality of life.

"You'll be in charge of Concourse A," the mayor said, showing the map to Hawkmoth but speaking to Ladybug and Chat Noir. "That's these bathrooms here," he pointed, "and the conference rooms here. You'll clean up the rooms after each panel discussion and in between the panels you'll cycle through the bathrooms. Document your work on this clipboard. Ladybug and Chat Noir will check in on you periodically."

Hawkmoth accepted the clipboard with a nod.

"Of course," André continued, "no one knows you're _actually_ Hawkmoth." A high-pitched titter escaped from his lips. "We can't very well have people too frightened to attend. Only the staff here are aware of your true identity. To the rest of the convention goers, you're just another member of the staff."

"In cosplay," Chat Noir added with a knowing grin.

"Erm, yes," André replied. "But I don't expect many will question it."

"I thought the point of this was to show a bit of good faith to the public," Hawkmoth said. "What's the point if no one knows I'm here?"

"Oh, we'll inform Paris after the event is concluded," André replied. "This is the safest way in the meantime." And with that, he launched into another rambling explanation about the expectations of cleaning duties, most likely memorized from the staff's employment book as Hawkmoth didn't think André ever held once a mop in his entire life.

Hawkmoth began to tune him out the more the mayor droned on about the same thing over and over. He had cleaned plenty of bathrooms. He knew the drill. When André appeared to be winding down, Hawkmoth nodded and replied with a crisp, "I understand," when prompted.

After a few more repeated explanations that any six-year-old with common sense would grasp the first time around, André turned to him. "Any questions?"

He thought about asking for clarification _one more_ time on where to go to empty the mop bucket, but he sensed André wouldn't pick up on the sarcasm and dutifully begin to explain from the beginning again. Even Ladybug's eyes had glazed over near the end (after the fourth or fifth walkthrough), so Hawkmoth shook his head, opting to remain silent.

"Well, then," André said, clapping his hands together. "I believe it's about time for you to begin your work."

Chat Noir smiled. "Agreed, Mayor. We'll let you go so Hawkmoth can start to _clean up_ his act."

As Hawkmoth slid a glance beside him, he noticed Ladybug do the same.

"Ah, yes. I'll be off then."

The moment André scurried out of earshot, Hawkmoth whirled around to his son. "That was _my_ pun you stole," he growled.

"Yeah," Ladybug interjected, and Hawkmoth raised his eyebrows in surprise at her support of him. "And it was just as bad the first time around," she added. "Let's get focused here, this is serious! We need to prove to Paris that Hawkmoth has turned over a new leaf." She pivoted around and stalked away, leaving the other two staring after her in shock.

"I changed my mind, son, you are not allowed to marry that girl."

"What?" Chat Noir exclaimed.

"Let's go," Hawkmoth said, following in Ladybug's wake, leaving a baffled Chat Noir to trail last.

* * *

Hawkmoth stood in front of the bathroom, pursing his lips in thought. An enormous trash can on wheels was next to him, along with a bucket stuffed with various cleaning supplies. After calling out to see if anyone was inside, he stuck a _Cleaning in Progress_ sign between the door jambs and began to work.

This was the second bathroom so far. The first had not yet been used, being so early in the morning, but he still dutifully went through the motions before marking the time on his clipboard and moving onto this one, allowing muscle memory to take over as he slipped into daydreams filled with Emilie and Adrien. As he exited the men's restroom, a cry caught his attention.

"Oh, my zipper broke!"

Normally the lament of disappointment would have sent the old Hawkmoth into a fit of gleeful frenzy, but the fashion snafu drew his interest now for a different reason. He turned to the source to discover a girl – her age unidentifiable due to the generous amount of face paint and brightly colored wig – standing outside the restrooms holding two edges of the side of her costume together. He could see the ripped seam clearly from his vantage point. Deciding this would kill some of the boredom while he waited for the women's restroom to vacate, he headed over to try and assist.

"May I take a look?" he asked.

Her eyes slid over to him, scanning his costume and lingering upon his _STAFF_ badge. She smiled. "I'm not certain you can do anything about it. It's ripped." Still, she offered the edges for him to examine.

"Hmm," he mused. His fingers lightly traced the path of the offending seam to the source. "It looks like the thread broke," he said. "It will need to be resewn."

"Ugh, I _hate_ this kind of stuff," she groused, twisting around to dig into her purse. Finding what she sought, she twisted back and presented a tiny sewing kit in her hands.

Hawkmoth's eyebrows rose. "Do you always carry a convenient sewing kit on you?" he asked.

She chuckled. "When I'm cosplaying I do. It's practically a requirement."

He conceded her point. "May I?" he asked, holding out his hand.

With a shrug, she deposited the kit onto his open palm. "If you don't mind. It would save me a trip back to the hotel. Or several long minutes in the bathroom."

"Yes, I would like to clean it sometime today," he said dryly as he compared the tiny selection of threads to her costume before selecting the closest match. He threaded it through the eye of the needle and began to sew the zipper back on with deft, precise motions. "So tell me," he said once he had started the process he had performed thousands of times in the past, "who exactly are you supposed to be?"

She turned her head around and grinned at him. "I'm Evillustrator, of course."

Though he may not have remembered everyone's names that he encountered, he had a near eidetic memory for their outfits – as hideous as some of them had selected. And he definitely did _not_ recall any such outfit in front of him.

"I thought Evillustrator had purple pants with a purple and white striped shirt," Hawkmoth said, eyeing the purple pleated skirt, red knee high leather boots, and white blouse with violet lace ruffles embroidered on it.

"Well, yeah, that one did," she said.

"That one?"  
"Yeah. That was evil Hawkmoth akuma," she said. He bristled at that. "I'm good Hawkmoth akuma," she continued and he relaxed. "Since Ladybug and Chat Noir said Hawkmoth is on our side now, his akumas will look different."

"I suppose they will," he agreed, tying off the edge, knotting it, and snapping the thread between his gloved fingers. "There you go, Miss Evillustator." He pursed his lips. "Though, perhaps you need a name change, as well. Noble-ustrator?"

"Mighty-illustrator!"

He leveled her with one of his patented looks. "How about Morallustrator?"

She leveled an equally unamused look back to him. "You're about as bad at naming as I am," she said. "I'll have to think on it." She craned her neck around to examine his handiwork. "Wow! This is perfect! Thank you, Mr...?"

"Hawkmoth," he supplied with a wink. "Now go, my colorful akuma, and spread good fun throughout this convention."

"I certainly will," she giggled, clearly believing him to be playing a role. "Thanks again!" She darted off into the crowd as Hawkmoth picked up his spray bottle and headed inside the restroom.

Repairing the costume proved to be the highlight of his day, however. As the morning bled into the afternoon and more and more people arrived, as did all of the bad. The restrooms got dirtier, the patrons ruder, and the low ache in his jaw radiated up to his head, threatening to erupt into a full blown migraine before the night's end. Ladybug and Chat Noir periodically caught up with him. Both seemed surprised at his progress. He suspected they expected half-hearted effort and instead they were greeted to sparkling bathrooms and a calm yet tired Hawkmoth whistling vaguely familiar tunes and engaging in conversation with various convention goers.

"Is it just me or does Hawkmoth actually seem right at ease doing this?" Chat Noir asked Ladybug during one such visit.

Ahead of them, Hawkmoth gasped in mock disbelief and stumbled against the wall, clutching his chest as a young child dressed up as Chat Noir "stabbed" him with a fake baton. The child squealed and laughed as the former villain played it up, slumping to the floor with exaggerated groans and sighs while the child cheered at his victory. Next to him, his mother held up a camera with her own smile.

"It's not just you," Ladybug answered, just as baffled.

As Hawkmoth picked himself off the floor and the mother and child departed (after many thanks by the grateful mom), he sensed something in the periphery of his empathic radar. Glancing over, he spotted the two heroes watching. The smile slid from his face and his shoulders straightened as they approached. The seriousness of their stances unnerved him. Was he in trouble? He wracked his brain trying to think of any misstep or task he might have forgotten to do.

"Ladybug, Chat Noir," he greeted each with a cool yet polite nod. Chat Noir's lips thinned and Hawkmoth sensed displeasure radiating from the teenager. What had he done this time? The nervousness that he had once again disappointed his son dampened his mood further. Even the atmosphere of delighted cheer surrounding the purple-suited man had died away. Stiff formality and resigned duty took its place. "Here is my clipboard with my record of completed tasks." Short and to the point. He offered it to them. Ladybug accepted and flipped through the pages, scanning over his work. Chat Noir merely continued to study Hawkmoth.

"What?" Hawkmoth eyed his son, uncomfortable with the expression upon Chat Noir's face.

"Nothing, you just reminded me of someone," Chat Noir replied.

"Who?"

"My father."

Hawkmoth's throat dried. He swallowed hard and opened his mouth. "Adr-"

"When I was little," Chat Noir cut in smoothly. "He's changed since then, of course. But those are my favorite memories of him. Anyway, I'll let you get back to work. That at least is definitely like my father. Always working." Chat Noir turned away before Hawkmoth could say anything else and vanished from sight.

He turned to Ladybug. "What did I do?" he asked.

She pursed her lips for a moment. "When did you last spend time with your son like you did with that child just now?"

He scoffed. "He doesn't want to spend time with me. He would rather relax in his free hours with his friends."

She handed him his clipboard back. "Are you sure about that?" she asked, sending him a meaningful look before disappearing after her partner.

He wished he could consult with Nooroo about all of this. Sighing, he picked up his rag and cleaner and headed into the bathroom, the interaction with his son lingering on his mind for the rest of the day.

* * *

"Hey, you're Hawkmoth, right?"

The voice stopped him in his tracks. Great. Now that the convention had officially closed for the first day, all he wanted to do was one final cleaning before heading home to his promised dinner with Adrien. Then maybe he could get some answers to the questions that had been plaguing his mind since that afternoon. The last thing he wanted right now was to deal with a disgruntled employee who wanted to air their grievances against him. The ache in his jaw worsened, feeling a bit like he had just come from a drilling at the dentist.

"I am," he said, hoping to get this over with as quickly as possible. A young man in his early to mid twenties stood in front of him, fiddling with his fingers.

"Can I ask you for a uh... a favor?"

Hawkmoth's eyebrows climbed up. "A favor?" he repeated.

The man nodded. "I kind of have a date tonight, and I was wondering if uh... you could akumatize me."

"No," Hawkmoth said, immediately dismissing the man. "If you don't want to go on your date, call them up and cancel like an adult. I won't become your excuse for your cowardice. Besides, I don't do that kind of stuff anymore.

"No, no, no, it's not like that!" the man exclaimed, holding his hands up in a placating manner. "I'm not sure I'll be able to make it in time. Could you akumatize me into someone who can, I dunno, clean the bathrooms super fast and spotless? I'll even clean yours, too."

Hmm, akumatizing someone to actually work as a force for good (albeit selfish) reasons. He would be home in time for his own dinner with Adrien. It didn't take long to reach a decision. He may be trying to turn over a heroic new leaf, but... well, baby steps, right?

"Fine," he agreed, ignoring the whoop of triumph from the other man. "But you'll only clean the bathrooms. Anything else and I'll withdraw the akuma immediately."

"Sure, no problem," the man replied, glibly waving away Hawkmoth's warning.

The ex-villain snapped his fingers and a white energy butterfly appeared, settling upon his open palm. "Do you have a preferred object to use as a vessel?"

The man reached beside him and withdrew his spray bottle filled with cleaner. He wiggled it in front of Hawkmoth. "Will this do?"  
"Perfect." He cupped his other hand over the butterfly, focusing his energy into imbuing it with power. "Go, my little akuma," he crooned, "and give our lovesick coworker the power to wash away his worries."

He released the power-infused akuma and watched as it fluttered to its target. Just before it hit the spray nozzle, a red and black blur flashed across his vision, snapping up the akuma. He turned to spot Ladybug releasing the now purified akuma with a furious expression upon her face.

"What did you go and do that for?" Hawkmoth exclaimed as she stalked over to them.

"I can't believe you, Hawkmoth!" she seethed. "I turned my back on you for one day – no, _half_ of a day – and I find you resorting back to your villainous ways and akumatizing people!"

His hackles rose in defense at her accusations. "Now wait just one minute," he began, right before the other man cut in.

"It's not what you think," he said, jumping to Hawkmoth's defense. "I asked him to akumatize me so I can clean the bathrooms faster. I have a date tonight."

Instead of mollifying her, that statement only seemed to incense Ladybug further. "So you thought you would shirk your duties?" she exclaimed. "This is your _punishment_, Hawkmoth!"

"I was merely offering assistance to the young man. Nothing nefarious, I assure you."

"That's not the point," she said, then took a deep breath to calm herself. She turned to the young man. "Go on," she said, "Hawkmoth will take care of your share of the bathrooms."

Hawkmoth opened his mouth to protest, but the words died in his throat as she turned her furious gaze upon him. "Very well," he said instead, yielding to her authority.

With an apologetic look at him, the other man scurried away, followed by Ladybug. The door slammed behind him, leaving him alone once again. The pain in his teeth radiated outward, spreading to his head. He absently rubbed his jaw as he pictured Adrien's disappointment at yet another empty promise. Maybe he should call and give his son the bad news? The image of Chat Noir from earlier that afternoon flashed through his mind. _Nah,_ he thought, _Adrien probably already expects it of me, especially after how he acted today._ He picked up his spray bottle and headed to the first bathroom on the list. With his workload now doubled, he would be lucky to make it home by midnight or early morning. For once, he was grateful his suit protected him from injury, otherwise his muscles would be screaming in protest at him tomorrow. He rolled his shoulders and started his work.

* * *

"Ugh, can you believe him?" Ladybug fumed as she burst into the room Chat Noir was. She paced around, ranting as she walked while occasionally rubbing her forehead. Chat Noir set aside his baton where he had been playing games while waiting for his father to finish working.

"What did Hawkmoth do now?" he asked, wagering a guess as to the cause of his partner's ire.

"I caught him in the middle of trying to akumatize someone," she exclaimed.

"What?" Chat Noir shot to his feet.

"Oh, it wasn't like that," she assured him. "Believe me, that's _exactly_ what I thought at first, too. Turns out, he just wanted to get out of work."

"By akumatizing someone?" Chat Noir asked, puzzled. "Was he hoping your cure would clean up bathrooms, too?"

She finally stopped pacing and faced him. "No, he was going to give one of the other janitors super powers. Super speedy cleaning powers, so the guy could make his date on time."

"Oh." Chat Noir paused. "And that is bad... why again? There's no one around to blow his cover."

"Chat!" Ladybug sounded scandalized. "It's wrong because this is his _punishment_. He's not supposed to take short cuts, least of all by using his super powers to do so."

"Hmm." Chat Noir didn't agree nor disagree. "So what did you do?"

"I sent the other guy home and told Hawkmoth to cover his workload, too."

"I see." Chat Noir thought for a moment before heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" Ladybug called after him.

He turned back. "To help out Hawkmoth. You see, I was supposed to have dinner with my father tonight. We were going to talk about our day today. I rarely get to see him as it is, and he made a point to plan this dinner because he was nervous about this weekend. But, it appears he's going to miss out on it again. Maybe this way I can spend a little bit of time with him." Before he exited the room completely, he turned back to her. "I won't challenge you in front of Hawkmoth, because I think that you've done a lot in forgiving him for what he's done. But I know Hawkmoth is trying. Maybe you could cut him a little slack?"

And he left, leaving Ladybug feeling worse than when she entered.

* * *

_**Author's Note**: Thank you to **PerditaAlottachocolate** for beta reading and her always helpful suggestions for improvement!_

_Also, some of you guys are pretty darn smart. What are you doing in this fandom? :P Just kidding! I won't spoil anything, but a few of you clever ones have picked up on some of the foreshadowing hints I've laid out so far._

_Also, check me out on Tumblr under goblin-alchemist and send me any Good-Guy-Gabe fic recommendations! I'm starting a list!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5_

Hawkmoth whistled an off-key tune as he scrubbed the toilets and sanitized the sinks. As the day progressed more and more he found himself slipping back into autopilot mode. Even years after he last touched a toilet brush, it appeared little had changed in bathroom sanitation, and muscle memory took over. He had never been the fastest cleaner, but he had been by far the most meticulous and the resulting state of the bathrooms proved his merit to his employers, despite his somewhat reclusive nature. When the footsteps sounded behind him, he didn't give it much thought – figuring Ladybug had returned to double check his work.

"Uh, what can I do to help?" Chat Noir's voice startled him mid-whistle.

He spun around. "What are you doing here?" he asked, hoping it didn't come across as too defensive.

A shuffle of feet. "Ladybug told me what happened and I thought maybe I could help. I had dinner plans tonight, but I think they're going to be canceled."

"Probably," Hawkmoth agreed. There was an awkward pause before he broke the silence once more. "Wouldn't you rather take the opportunity to spend time with your friends?"

The look Chat Noir leveled at him nearly froze his blood. "I would rather have dinner with my father, like he promised. As that appears to be canceled once again, maybe I could spend some time with him anyway. Dinner or not."

He swallowed. "I just thought you might enjoy your sudden free time with your friends."

"Why would you think that?"

"You're a teenager, Ad- Chat Noir. It's what teenagers _do_. They don't want to hang out with their stuffy parents."

"Well, this teenager does." A rebellious sort of fire burned in Chat Noir's green eyes as he stared a challenge at Hawkmoth.

"Oh." He refused to accept the bait. "Well, then, this stuffy parent certainly welcomes the company." He offered a thin smile – an olive branch to his son.

Chat Noir accepted with his own smile. "Great!" He stared around at the cleaning supplies. "So, uh, how does this all work?"

Hawkmoth tsked at him with a teasing sigh. "Weren't you paying attention to Mayor Bourgeois earlier when he explained?"

"Nope," his son readily admitted. "Honestly, I didn't think you were, either."

Hawkmoth winked. "You would be correct: I wasn't." He handed a cleaning cloth and a bottle of glass cleaner to the boy. "Here, this is for the mirrors."

"How did you know what to do, then?" Chat Noir asked, spritzing half of the bottle onto the mirror with great enthusiasm.

As the waterfall of liquid oozed into the sink, Hawkmoth stifled a sigh. He gently extracted the bottle from the boy's hand. "I used to do this before I made it big into fashion," he confessed, sopping up the puddles of glass cleaner with the rag. He tore out some paper towels from the dispenser and showed Chat Noir how only two or three sprays adequately covered the job.

"What?" Chat Noir stared at him, even as Hawkmoth handed the bottle back. "Why didn't you tell me that?"

"You never asked."

Chat Noir huffed as he got back to work. "So now I have to ask to find out more about you?" The scrubbing of the mirror turned vigorous as the boy's lips thinned in displeasure.

"It's nothing exciting, Chat. I've worked many odd jobs before I found success." Hawkmoth turned his attentions to the sinks.

Chat Noir slammed the bottle down on the sink and whirled around to face Hawkmoth head on. "It's something to _me_. How come everything new I discover about you feels like I'm pulling teeth to get you to tell me? I shouldn't have to ask you for specific details for me to know more about my own father."

Hawkmoth continued shining the faucet as he mulled over his son's words. At last, he nodded. "You're right. It's not something I'm particularly proud of – the extreme conditions I lived in before Audrey discovered me – so I tend to keep it hidden."

"See, that's the problem I'm talking about. You always lock away these emotions, never letting me in. Then today, I find you're acting so carefree and nonchalant around a stranger and her child? I thought maybe for once you had finally started to let me in, but the moment you saw me you clammed right back up again, throwing up the shields I can never seem to get past."

The spray bottles lay long forgotten on the floor. Hawkmoth braced himself against the sink, willing his voice to remain steady, to not betray him when he needed to be strong. "Those people didn't know me, Chat. If they knew who I really was, they would have run away screaming in terror. I know that's entirely my doing, but with this anonymity, it gives me a chance to start over. To be someone better."

"So why did you tense up when you saw me?"

He clenched his jaw, unwilling to state aloud a bone-cutting weakness. Chat Noir waited. "I thought I was in trouble," he admitted at last.

"Why would you think you were in trouble?"

"Aren't I always? It seems to be a theme with me: ever the screw-up. Unable to do anything right. Your girlfriend puts up a nice front, but I could sense her displeasure all day."

"No!"

The vehement denial surprised him. He looked over to his son, unsure of exactly what he would find. The intensity burning in the green eyes surprised him even more.

"Sure, you made mistakes," Chat Noir said. "Sure, you did horrible things. But you've stopped that. You're trying to be a better man. That's something. In fact, that's more than a lot of people can claim."

"It will never be enough."

"Maybe not for some people. But it's enough for me."

The waves of emotion pouring from the teenager threatened to undo him right then and there. He inhaled, long and slow and steady. Focused upon his heart rate, latching onto the rhythm as an anchor point so he would not drown in the riptide of sentiment threatening to whisk all composure away from his body. When the roar of the tension ebbed and he was able to contain himself, he spoke to Chat Noir in a soft voice. "I'll try to be more forthcoming in the future." He looked over and met his son's eyes. "For you."

The smile he received in return may have been tiny, but it lit up his world. "Thanks, Father."

A small cough from the doorway had both Agreste men jumping in panic.

"Ah, so sorry!" Ladybug exclaimed, waving her hands. "It's just me. I didn't mean to startle you."

Hawkmoth wanted to ask if she was here to check on his work some more, but he swallowed the snarky remark. "That's quite okay, Ladybug," he said instead. "We weren't expecting anyone else in the building is all. What can I do for you?"

"Uhm," she said, shuffling her feet before squaring her shoulders and meeting his eyes. "I'm sorry for how I acted earlier," she said, and Hawkmoth tilted his head in surprise. "I know you're doing your best and trying really hard to show everyone you've changed, and I reacted unfairly. It's not an excuse, but I've had this massive headache all day, and I took out my negativity on you. You didn't deserve it, and I'm genuinely sorry for how I treated you."

He walked over and placed one hand upon her shoulder. "Forgiven," he told her with a gentle smile. "I apologize for giving you ample reason to doubt my intentions. And for attempting to cheat at my work. I don't cut corners in my business and I had no right to start now."

She smiled up at him, then her eyes drifted to the bucket of cleaning supplies. "So, how can I help?"

"That's not necessary," Hawkmoth began, but she cut him off.

"I want to."

He relented, knowing it would be impossible to talk her out of her decision once she set her mind to it.

"Still," she muttered, nibbling on her lip as she surveyed the scene, "this is going to take forever. Is there anything we could do to speed things up?"

Hawkmoth cleared his throat meaningfully.

"No akumatizations," she told him.

He shrugged.

"What about your healing wave?" Chat Noir suggested. "Miraculous Cure?"

"That only repairs damaged caused by a Miraculous," Ladybug said.

Chat raised one hand high into the air. "_Cata_-"

Ladybug slapped her hand over his mouth. "None of that!" she admonished. "You're not going to destroy this bathroom just so I can repair it!"

"If I may," Hawkmoth interrupted the two, "I have an idea."

"What?" Ladybug asked.

"It's better if I just show you." With a snap of his fingers, hundreds of white butterflies materialized out of thin air. They hovered for a second before Hawkmoth snapped his fingers again, and a whirlwind of white clouded their sights, swirling and twisting and brushing against everything before another snap and they vanished as abruptly as they had appeared, leaving the bathroom practically sparkling with cleanliness in their wake.

"Whoa," Chat Noir breathed out as he stared around the room with wide eyes. "That was pawesome!"

"Why didn't you do this earlier?" Ladybug asked.

"That would have been cheating."

She flushed, then shot a sly grin to him. "Well, I won't tell anyone," she said.

He returned a sly smile back to her. "Why, Miss Ladybug, I do believe my nefarious ways are rubbing off on you."

"Maybe I just want you home in time to eat dinner with your son," she replied.

"Maybe," he agreed, leading the way to the next restroom to clean. Even the ache in his jaw subsided as the evening progressed.

"So, Father," Chat Noir begin, innocent enough. "Did you ever used to sell camembert door-to-door?"

* * *

The next morning started out much the same as the previous. Gabriel and Adrien rode to the center, passing by the same lone protester once more demanding to speak to the mayor. And once again, the duo crept stealthily through the sparsely populated hallways (or as stealthily as they could) before joining up with Marinette in their makeshift headquarters. Their limited lair? Brief burrow? Short-lived sanctuary? He was still trying to come up with a suitable nickname. Once transformed, they headed out to begin their duties.

Even the mayor made a point to intercept the trio, something that surprised Hawkmoth as he hadn't expected to see the man again given his hesitation the previous morning. He wondered what new jobs the man would tack onto his schedule or what complaints would be levied against him. Maybe he shouldn't have succumbed to temptation and attempted to akumatize that man last night.

To his utter surprise, André beamed at them – yes, even Hawkmoth – before launching into a lengthy speech, most of which Hawkmoth tuned out until something caught his attention.

"I'm sorry," he interrupted, "what did you just say?"

André paused mid-sentence and gaped at him before blinking and sending Hawkmoth an enormous smile that oozed _fake_ and _practiced_. "Well," he began, "it certainly came as a surprise to me, too. Turns out we've received multiple compliments from the staff and people attending the convention about the wonderful work Hawkmoth has done."

Wonderful work? "What do you mean?" he asked.

"The bathrooms are spotless, even cleaner than when we opened," André said. "We've also received reports of you helping out different convention goers with directions, advice, and engaged in pleasant conversations with several of them."

"I see."

"So uh, well, I just wanted to say keep up the good work! This is turning out to be the best convention yet!"

The good cheer didn't last long, for as soon as he stopped at the first restroom, the ache in his jaw returned with a vengeance. He groaned and rubbed his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain. When it had subsided, he opened his eyes up again to spy Ladybug also rubbing her jaw.

"Another headache?" he asked.

She looked at him. "Yeah. Kind of. My teeth just hurt, is all."

"Mine, too," he admitted.

A sort of puzzled frown appeared on her face then, but before she could say anything, Chat Noir sauntered over.

"I just saw Chloé Bourgeois heading over here," he announced, and Ladybug winced. "So, if you don't want her clinging to your arm all day, I suggest we scatter now."

She nodded. "Sorry for leaving so quickly, Hawkmoth," she said.

He waved her away. "Not at all. See you in a few hours." He picked up his clipboard as the two teenage heroes scurried away. Not too long after, the familiar blonde ponytail appeared in his line of sight, and he hastily ducked into a bathroom. There was no telling if she knew of his true identity as the real Hawkmoth, but either way he did not want to listen to the mayor's irksome daughter.

It was after the late-morning panel discussion, when he was trying to clean up only to discover a group of girls laughing as they tossed their cups just out of reach, that his headache spiked.

"Leave it," one ordered another who attempted to toss her cup in the trash receptacle near the door. She shot a scornful look to Hawkmoth. "That's their job."

The girl still picked up the cup and disposed of it properly, shooting an apologetic look at him as she passed. He glared at the remainder of the group, but they sneered and left.

And that's when it hit. The pain shot through him like a bullet. He dropped to his knees. Digging his palms into his eyes to dull the pain, he ground his teeth together to stop an anguished whimper from escaping.

Just as suddenly, the pain vanished.

He blinked away spots from his vision, rubbing his head where the last remnants of pain lingered, before staggering back to his feet with one shaky hand. Thankfully, all of the people had departed before the agony overwhelmed him. He had to find either Ladybug or Chat Noir. Something was wrong. Something was very, _very_ wrong.

But he didn't know what.

With a growing feeling of dread he couldn't quite explain, Hawkmoth popped open the crystal on the top of his cane, intending to call Ladybug and Chat Noir. His trembling fingers barely connected with the buttons before another spike of pain handicapped him, leaving his mind a fuzzy ball of haze as he recovered from the attack. His fingers refused to cooperate and after several failed attempts at mashing the wrong buttons, he gave up, deciding to track them down the old-fashioned way instead.

He managed to find his way out into the hallway, staggering against the wall as periodic waves of pain cascaded into him. All around him, people went about their day like normal. A few shot him concerned glances. One or two attempted to talk to him. Their words blurred in his mind.

Pain.

Only pain.

What was this? Why was this happening?

A loud screeching noise echoed in his ears.

The scream of metal against metal.

The radiating pain in his jaw.

More screaming, though this time it sounded human.

White crashed beside him. He blinked. A rock?

Looking up, he spotted a gaping hole. Part of the ceiling had collapsed. A quick glance beside him showed the beginnings of large cracks spiraling across the drywall and tile.

Something red entered his periphery and he stumbled over, smashing his hand against the glass and slamming the button inside. The fire alarm in the building sprang to life with flashing lights and wailing sirens. But it had the intended effect. All around him, people scurried for the front doors, desperate to escape the falling debris.

The walls around him shifted, the metal grinding and squealing in protest.

A scream caught his attention amid the chaos around him.

A lone scream, higher pitched than the others nearby.

A child's scream.

He darted forward, fighting against the wave of people rushing to safety. Reaching the open atrium level, he looked to the upper level. The stairs would take too long. He scanned the walls, calculating the distance between obstacles before running forward and launching himself up the side. He bounced off light fixtures and decorative grooves, always advancing and never stopping for an instant to avoid losing momentum. He reached the glass railing and twisting over the edge, landing neatly on both feet. With no time to waste to congratulate himself on an effective parkour, he shot off down the hall, the crying and screaming growing louder the further he got inside.

After what seemed like minutes but must have only been mere seconds, he kicked open a door to discover a room full of young children. A plastic playground centered in the middle and several small chairs and tables dotted the edges, piled high with puzzles, coloring books, and crayons. A babysitting room? A child-watching room? He didn't know, but it appeared he was the only adult in the vicinity. His eyes fell upon the limp body of a young woman. A chunk of plaster the size of his fist lay next to her. A couple of the kids huddled next to her. One of the older ones attempted to wake her to no avail. Correction: the only conscious adult in the vicinity.

The crying and wailing paused as the children looked at him with wide-eyed panic. In an instant, they surged toward him, several clamping onto his legs before resuming their terrified bawling. Too many children. He couldn't grab them all and escape.

On cue, an enormous piece of rubble slammed beside him, blocking the entrance to the door. He wished he had Carapace and his shielding ability right now, but maybe he could take some inspiration from Mr. Pigeon and create something equally as effective. With no time to akumatize anyone to assist, he snapped his fingers.

"Come close, children," he called as he stepped next to the injured caregiver, though he didn't need to worry as every child in the area swarmed him like a candy dispenser.

Thousands of butterflies appeared. Many of the children ceased their crying to gasp in wonder and delight. Hawkmoth waved his hands and the butterflies packed together tightly around them, forming a dome of white magical fluttering.

All around them, the building shuddered and shook as it collapsed. But inside the dome, they were safe. The children could escape once the initial danger had passed. They just had to wait for the shaking to stop. His butterflies could hold out until then.

He hoped.

* * *

_**Author's Note:** Thank you to **PerditaAlottachocolate** for beta reading this, along with several other people who I consulted to ask if this was too OOC in some places._

_Also, congratulations to the two people who correctly guessed that the building was the danger the protester was attempting to warn people about (including you, anonymous Tumblr user who sent me an ask that I have been ignoring for two weeks now). More will be explained next chapter._


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6_

As the building shuddered all around them, Hawkmoth could sense his akumas vanishing under the attack. The thick layer thinned under the onslaught.

"Gather in tightly," he ordered, but the children ignored him, continuing to wail and cry in fear.

Ugh, he was never good with people, least of all children. What would Emilie do if she were here? Or Adrien?

"Okay, everyone," he shouted, loud enough to rise over the screams but not enough to frighten them further, "we're going to hug each other. Everyone squish together as close as possible and squeeze as tight as you can."

_Actions, Gabriel, not words,_ he thought. He reached over and lifted the limp form of the babysitter, clutching her close to his chest in a comical overly dramatic hug. Some of the kids stopped crying and giggled. He looped one arm around the shoulders of one of the calmer kids and tugged them in. Their shrieks of laughter silenced the rest of the sobbing as the kids all watched with wide-eyed fascination.

"Come on," he urged. "Get real close."

That did it, as the little ones shuffled and scooted inward. Hawkmoth clenched his fist, and the dome shrunk, tightening as the akumas restrengthened the shield. Several heart-stopping moments later, the last of the rumbles died down, and Hawkmoth could no longer feel any impacts upon his akumas.

With great caution, he ordered his akumas to open a tiny window – no bigger than his fist – to peek out. Rubble blocked his path. He shifted the hold all around, getting a complete view of the room. Chunks of rock and concrete were scattered across the room – or what was left of the room. Most of the walls had collapsed. The drywall blended with the other bits of the demolished building. Slowly, tentatively, he lowered the shield, thinning the akumas gradually until he felt it safe enough to drop it entirely. The room was demolished. Enormous piles of rubble lay strewn all around them. Several fragments had smashed into the plastic playground. The slide had broken into two pieces, the front edge of it crumpled flat. Most of the tables collapsed under the weight of the destruction, and the ones that remained would have offered little protection. Had it not been for his akuma dome, many of the children would be injured, or worse. Most of the glowing butterflies vanished, but he kept a few around to distract the children. From their soft giggles, it appeared to be working for the moment.

But it wouldn't last, and neither would the skeletal remains of the building. They needed to escape – and fast.

Time to return to his roots.

Icy blue eyes swept over the children, studying them in a brief instant before dismissing them just as fast. Frightened children were perfect for indiscriminate destruction designed to draw out Ladybug and Chat Noir, but he needed someone with a clearer mind for this more delicate task. If only their supervisor could awaken. But alas, he couldn't wait that long. Closing his eyes to help block out the children around him, he allowed his senses to explore beyond the walls. He could akumatize himself if needed, but he really didn't want to potentially expose his identity. That would remain a last possible resort. If only he could find just one person nearby...

There!

Helplessness, sorrow, guilt. A strong desire to help. To do _something._

He summoned a butterfly to his palm, imbuing it with familiar power before sending it on its way. It flopped and fluttered, easily bypassing the bigger rocks before vanishing after its target.

A moment passed.

Connection!

"Architect, my name is Hawkmoth," he began, the monologue springing forth to his lips easily despite the urgency of the situation. "You desire to assist in any way you can. I can giv-"

"No."

Hawkmoth paused. "Architect, I am not going to harm you."

"No, I mean, I'll help, but I want to pick my identity."

He didn't have time to object or argue. He needed someone with a level head to accept his powers. "Fine," he agreed. "Choose whatever identity you desire, but there is a whole room full of children trapped upstairs. We need assistance immediately."

"You got it, Hawkmoth! I'll be right there."

He released the telepathic link temporarily to allow the akuma champion to work unimpeded. Turning his focus on the kids, he sent a few of the butterflies into spiraling dances just above their heads, creating a wondrous show to distract them. At least the throbbing in his head might start to fade now that the kids were calmer.

Before too long, however, he heard something approach. With a snap of the fingers, a new swarm of white akumas appeared, sending the children into a gleeful happiness. Hawkmoth, however, stood wary. If people were moving toward them, it's possible they might shift the rubble and dislodge more of it. His shield would be ready to protect anyone.

The rubble in front of him cleared at last, and a silver head poked through. Different from his silver mask, this one appeared stiffer. Metallic. Did he just create an akumatized version of the Tin Man?

"It looks like you're attempting to escape from a collapsing building. I can help with that!"

The children stared up at the new face. Some in confusion, some in trepidation, some in excitement.

"What's your name?" one little boy asked.

"I'm Clippy, and I'll be your personal assistant in helping you get to safety today!"

Oh dear. He wasn't entirely certain he could convince Parisians he was on their side anymore once the citizens got one look at the newest "heroic" akuma.

"Today we're going to be learning how to successfully navigate through rubble," Clippy continued.

Seriously? This hero could have been the_ Architect_ and now Hawkmoth was stuck with the most annoying paperclip in existence. He was never letting another hero design their own form ever again. He didn't care when they were villains – whatever got the job done, after all. But now he had a reputation to uphold!

"Remember to line up in single file!"

Ugh.

At least the akuma-hero managed to keep the kids calm and interested in his words. Clippy began to lead the children through a narrow path that... wait that wasn't there before. How did that happen?

He reluctantly picked up the rear, carrying the unconscious woman as Clippy cut through the rubble. Or rather, the debris seemed to magically vanish and reform around them. Smatterings of "walk briskly but don't run" and "no need to panic and push, we'll all get out of here together" filtered back to him. Clippy stopped in front of a broken elevator. He pointed to the button with a T-square ruler and the button disappeared, melting into the wall until only smooth metal remained. "Remember, children, do not use the elevator in the event of an emergency. Locate the nearest stairwell and descend safely. Do you need help finding the stairwell?"

"It's over here!" a little girl shouted, pointing to a dust-covered door.

"Nice job! You're certainly getting the hang of this!" Clippy praised as the group shifted over to the door. "You'll notice this door opens inward to the stairwell and not outward. Keep an eye out for obstacles on the stairs and hold onto the handrail at all times. Down we go!"

Once at the bottom of the stairs, Clippy raised his T-ruler high into the air. "Who can tell me what are some important considerations when designing a tunnel? If you need help answering, just let me know."

"Uhm, walls?" one kid suggested in a timid voice, peeking from around another child.

"That's correct!" Clippy praised. "Supporting beams are essential to any solid construction." He lowered his arm, and the T-ruler tapped against the collapsed pile in front of him. Immediately, the rubble shifted aside to form a small tunnel. Wooden beams criss-crossed above and to the sides, and if Hawkmoth didn't know any better, he would claim he was about to enter a mine shaft. As a precaution, he shifted his butterflies to provide additional support from above.

"Perfect!" Clippy crowed. "We can proceed safely now. Remember, always secure the scene before attempting to enter, otherwise you may get injured. What are some other things to be aware of when entering dangerous territory?"

They progressed like this. Clippy leading the way with irritating "helpful" tips and advice, the children following after, protected with an additional layer of butterflies, and Hawkmoth bringing up the rear, carrying their limp caregiver in his arms. Though Hawkmoth had to give his akuma some credit – his endless nattering and "safety quiz" questions sufficiently distracted the kids enough to keep them calm while they wandered through rubble that magically shifted to form a pathway whenever Clippy waved his T-ruler.

At last, a piece of rubble slid to the side, and a bit of sunlight poked through. The children closest to the front cheered. The giddiness quickly spread down the line. With another tap of his T-ruler, the rubble widened into an archway.

"Congratulations! You successfully navigated through the difficult task of escaping a collapsing building," Clippy praised.

The children ignored him, surging past and bursting into the sunlight. Hawkmoth could hear screams of joy. He trailed last, stepping out into the outdoor light only once every child had already scampered free to safety. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness.

"There he is!"

The indignant cry reached his ears before his vision cleared, so when the black spots finally faded, the first thing he saw was Mayor Bourgeois storming over to him. Ladybug and Chat Noir trailed behind, both more concerned than angry, unlike André. Hawkmoth ignored the red-faced mayor, turning and diverting his path to one of the emergency service vehicles.

"She's been unconscious since the collapse," he informed one of the medics, depositing the girl with gentle care on an unoccupied gurney.

"We'll take care of her," the medic told him, immediately reaching for her bag. Another medic came up to assist. Hawkmoth turned to face Mayor Bourgeois, who was trailed by Roger Raincomprix. Clippy stood nearby, focused upon a tablet device he had magically summoned. Ladybug eyed the akumatized person warily, her hand hovering over her yo-yo. She made no further action, probably because the akuma had yet to act aggressively.

By now, André had reached Hawkmoth. The former villain stepped off to one side to allow the paramedics to work without him getting in the way. The mayor thrust a finger into Hawkmoth's face. "How _dare_ you!" he hissed. His face began to turn purple with rage.

"Excuse me?" Hawkmoth channeled his frostiest glare at the mayor.

"We gave you a second chance, and not only do you release an akuma, but you destroyed the brand new convention center. People are _hurt_. People could have _died_."

Hawkmoth pursed his lips into a thin line, but before he could say anything in his defense, André whirled around to Ladybug.

"Use your magic to repair this," he ordered the heroine.

She frowned at the mayor, but withdrew her yo-yo and summoned her Lucky Charm anyway, her eyes flickering over to Hawkmoth. He returned it with a bland expression. Barely waiting for the object to touch her hands, she launched it skyward with a cry.

"Miraculous Ladybug!"

The swarm of magical ladybugs circled around the convention center. When they cleared, instead of a pristine building, the collapsed walls remained.

"What?" Mayor Bourgeois began. He stared at the building, his jaw slackening in disbelief.

Almost as if responding, the building groaned. They watched as it toppled inward even more. An enormous cloud of dust puffed out, billowing over the crowd.

"I-I don't understand," Mayor Bourgeois stammered.

"It appears like you're trying to understand why the Cure didn't work," Clippy chimed in from where he had been standing. "I can help with that!"

All eyes turned to him as he continued tapping on his tablet. He looked up with a smile.

"What is this akuma still doing here?" André snapped, jabbing a finger at Clippy while he turned to glare at Ladybug.

"Miraculous Cure repairs all damaged caused by a Miraculous," Clippy continued, unperturbed by the mayor's ire. "The only 'damage' I technically caused was creating tunnels for everyone to escape. Removing the supporting beams I installed weakened the structure further and led to the collapse you just witnessed."

It took a moment for that to sink in, but when it did, the mayor blinked. "So you're saying this wasn't because of Hawkmoth?"

"Very good!" Clippy praised, and coming from anyone else it would sound patronizing. "You're getting the hang of this now!"

Okay, maybe it _still_ sounded a little condescending.

"Well, now that everyone is safe," Ladybug cut in, diplomatically heading off an argument, "maybe you could recall your akuma?" She directed the last bit toward Hawkmoth.

He nodded and snapped his fingers. The butterfly fluttered up and away, needing no cleansing. The metallic costume melted away, revealing a man that Hawkmoth recognized.

"You're that protester," he said, "from out front."

The man blinked as he got a hold of his senses. Because the akuma wasn't forced out, the man retained his memory. His eyes swept over the remains of the building, past Ladybug and Chat Noir, and settled upon him.

"Yes," he admitted. "I knew something like this would happen. That's why I was so desperate to speak to the mayor."

Chat Noir frowned. "You mean you _weren't_ protesting the fact that Hawkmoth was here?"

"Hawkmoth is here?" His eyes widened. "Wait, you're _actually_...?" He slapped a hand to his forehead. "Right. The akumatization. Sorry, I'm still processing everything."

"Who are you?" Mayor Bourgeois turned his attention upon the man. "And what did you mean by you knew that this would happen?"

The man rubbed a hand through his sandy hair. "My name is Jef Ferdi. I'm the architect who designed this building."

"So your design was inadequate?" Roger chimed in.

The glare Mr. Ferdi leveled at the officer would have put any of Gabriel's glares to shame. Hawkmoth nodded in approval. "Absolutely _not_," Mr. Ferdi snapped, his eyes flashing in anger over the accusation. "I _told_ them that the project was moving too fast. I _warned_ them to slow down, that the concrete hadn't had enough time to properly cure. But no one listened to me, so eager to upstage one another that they didn't bother to check their egos at the door." He waved his hand at the destroyed building behind him. "You're lucky no one was killed!"

The Miraculous at his chest buzzed, but Hawkmoth ignored it.

"It's a shame," he drawled instead, "that it appears the blame will fall upon Mayor Bourgeois for this mishap." Might as well stir some drama.

Maybe a smidgen of revenge.

All eyes snapped to him, then to the mayor.

"Now just wait one minute," Mayor Bourgeois began, his face alternating between the colors of Gabriel's favorite suit. Hawkmoth wondered if he would pass out. "How _dare_ you level the blame at me for this!"

He shot him an idle look in return – one of boredom. He hoped the gleam in his eyes didn't betray him. "Isn't it?" he said. "You're the one who greenlit the project to advance faster than what was safe. And all for what? To upstage a certain fashion designer? So Paris could see me begin to enact my punishment at _your_ convention instead of another?"

"The inspectors will have to examine the building to determine the final cause," Ladybug cut in, shooting him a look. Hmm, seems she saw through his feigned nonchalance. "But I think we can all agree that Hawkmoth here performed admirably today."

"Heroic, even," Chat added with a wink.

"It's certain that children would have died had it not been for his quick and selfless actions," Ladybug tacked on.

Mayor Bourgeois still bristled in anger over the jabs against him, but he calmed a bit at the new statements. "Yes, I suppose the city of Paris thanks you for your service, for once," he added, not bothering to mask the disdain in his voice.

"You're welcome," Hawkmoth replied.

"So in light of that," Ladybug continued, "I think Hawkmoth's services for this weekend have ended. He's put in enough time, I feel."

"Ah, I suppose," Mayor Bourgeois said, the obvious reluctance in his voice clear to everyone.

"I can stay if you want," Hawkmoth said. "I don't mind using my akumas to shift around rubble and start to rebuild this bette—uh, well, back to normal."

Oh, he was enjoying these little jabs at the mayor. If they forced him to remain the rest of the weekend, he would certainly make sure to hover around André looking for any opportunity to upstage him.

Apparently the mayor sensed that as well.

"That's okay. You're free to go back to your home," Mayor Bourgeois said. "We'll be in touch about your future punishment services, of course."

"Of course," Hawkmoth answered, maintaining the lighthearted tone that appeared to irritate André the most.

Ladybug grabbed his arm and practically dragged him away from the group. "You're awfully good at riling people up," she hissed to him once they were a good distance away.

"Thank you," he said.

"That wasn't a compliment."

"It all depends on how you look at it."

"Whatever," she grumbled. "Now that we're out of risk of you antagonizing everyone further, I think I have an explanation for why we had headaches all weekend."

That caught his attention. "Oh? Do share."

"Well, Chat Noir has enhanced hearing and vision when transformed. I'm thinking since both of our transformations are insect-based, we were able to sense the subsonic sounds of the metal and concrete grinding and shifting against each other. It set our teeth on edge."

"Quite literally," Hawkmoth added, rubbing his chin as he mused over that information.

"It's the most likely explanation," Ladybug said.

"And I like it," he said. "I'm just glad that infernal headache is finally gone."

"But we'll still be seeing Mayor Bourgeois when he talks to us again in the future," Chat Noir interjected with an innocent smile.

Hawkmoth groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. "When did you get to be such a smart aleck?"

"I learned from my father."

"Well I, for one, am going to get back home and shower this dust off me," Hawkmoth said, ignoring the bait Chat Noir laid out for him.

"Fantastic idea," Ladybug agreed. "I'll be seeing you around! Bug out!"

As she threw her yo-yo to the skies, Hawkmoth turned to his son. "Does she say that every time she leaves?"

"Yep!"

He sighed at Chat's lovesick expression. "Come on," he said. "Let's go home. Maybe we can watch a movie together or something."

"Sure, I'd like that."

And they, too, bounded off into the skies.

The next morning, Gabriel was at the breakfast table, perusing the headlines on his tablet with his usual scowl.

"What is it, Father?" Adrien asked as he sat beside him.

In reply, Gabriel showed him the tablet.

Instead of the dramatic "Heroic Hawkmoth Rescues Children" headline that Gabriel was _expecting_ to be front topic (it was buried a dozen articles down the page), the top story had Adrien bursting out into laughter.

_Hawkmoth a Janitor in Civilian Life?_

_ This past weekend, convention goers to the latest Ladybug and Chat Noir appreciation event were treated to an unusual sight – one of the janitorial staff cosplaying as the fearsome reformed villain Hawkmoth. It turns out that this was no mere cosplayer, but Hawkmoth himself! The ex-supervillain began working off his punishment service to Paris this weekend by getting down and dirty with the bathroom cleaning service._

_ But it turns out that cleaning may just be in Hawkmoth's blood. Our journalists received many reports of Hawkmoth's fantastic work upon the cleanliness of the restrooms. Multiple sources agreed that the bathrooms Hawkmoth had been assigned remained some of the cleanest of the entire convention hall. And what's more, the man actually seemed to be at ease while performing his duties. Word has spread like wildfire, and more and more eyewitness accounts of Hawkmoth are coming in: from whistling cheerful tunes, to excitedly talking about the different panels, to mock-battling cosplaying heroes. Is our once-feared villain secretly a janitor in his civilian life? It could certainly explain why some of the akuma designs were so trashy. Follow the discussion in the comments below!_

Gabriel groaned and buried his head in his arms as Adrien read aloud the article several times, emphasizing key phrases over and over with delighted glee.

"At least this helps your cover," his son said once he had finally calmed down. "I mean, who would ever think the great Gabriel Agreste to be such a skilled janitor?"

_The End_

* * *

_**Author's Note:** Once again, thank you so very much to PerditaAlottachocolate for beta-reading this!_


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